The story of S
by Lear
Summary: An ageless soul visits the manor, and Rogue is the only one who can speak to him.


My first Fan. fic.

The story of a mad man gone sad. This is the story of S.

The short stranger was walking the poorly illuminated streets of Bayville. Because of the night his black clothes blended ironically with the supposebly white snow that cracked under his heavy feet. He was walking as if he was burdened with a hunch containing the troubles of the world. He had a long whidered face and deep black eyes. The kind that would make death stop and gaze.

He reached the Institute and stared through the bars, through thick witernight darkness at the flickering lights in the mansion.

"Welcome home!" - a voice that seemed his own whispered in his head ; The same voice answering back:

"Indeed! Welcome home!"

He moved through the bars of the massive front gate as if he was mist. He continued floating to one of the windows.He looked at the happy faces inside. Strangers sitting ,talking and laughing. Young people. They sat on his chairs and felt the wormth that was once his own.

He glided upwoards and in utter silence saw a lonely girl curled up in her bed reading. Her gloves and pale face reminded him of his Mira. The fun they used to have , strolling though the gardens, the warm summer days. But that was a long time ago. He was urged by his inner self to go in , talk to her. "But they wouldn't listen . They can't." . The girl came to the window he was floating in front of and gazed deeply at him . Through him. "She can't see me.No one can." His stare at her eyes and perfect face was interrupted by another girl with a ponytale that walked in the room.

"C'mon Rogue! Come down with us. It's Christmas."

"A'h rather not"

"Ah! C'mon!" - the second girl grabbed her by the wrist and they melted in the floor.

S. was mesmerised. Until then he never met anyone that could pass through solid matter as a shadow . "Could she share the same miserable fate I have?" S.'s Question remained unanswered. Still the first girl's look dazed him . The ressemblance with Mira was striking."Alas she's been dead for a century now. And I still bitterly roam. Alone. Unable to be felt. I am trully miserable." he thought as he descended to near ground level.

His true love. The one that never left his side. His Mira. He remembered the regretful day she died at his hands. He cursed the gift given to him. He cursed science then. He even cursed God for his mistake. All but himself. That day ... the Machine that was suppose to keep Mira and him together forever. Him! a borned freak of nature. A ghostly man ... of ageless appearence and bearing the gift of immortality.And Her! Mira. The only one for him . Insane at the thought of loosing her , of her growing old while he stays forever young he pushed her , almost forced her in the Machine. It killed her . He remembered the despair , the agony and helplesness that caught up with him , the day she died. The day he killed her .

He was a scientist. A man ahead of his time, yet now as the memories of times cold and dusted rise he curses the gift of knoledge and his immortality. "My bitter Immortality! unable to touch, to feel , to be felt ... I'm not alive! I'm dead" - this thoughts brought salt filled tears in his eyes as he moved inside the mansion.

There he saw teenagers. The same age Mira was whe he first met her .

"Bobby! you better wait until tomorrow morning."

A blue looking creature came down above the second girl he saw upstairs in the other room , with a piece of missletoe.

"Ah c'mon Kitty! Just a small kiss!"

"Like in you're dreams Elf-boy!"

"Well Hank! I'm glad they all stayed here for Christmas this year."

"Let's wait until tomorrow and see huh Charles? I don't think there's enough preasents for all of them under that tree"

S. looked captivated at the sheer joy that rendered the room in festidious glamour. "the one in the chair looks like the owner. This must be some sort of orphanage. Yet two characters keep away from the party." The big looking man in the arm chair with the face that expresses a sickening attitude towards youth and his Mira look-alike.

"I must talk to her" - he was thinking as he walk at her side up the stairs , away from the fuss and into the silence.

They spent an hour staring at eachother's faces. "This is ridiculous!" - he thought "She can't see me. She's probably staring through the window. Why do I do this? . Why do I raise my hopes and then willingly shatter them on the ground and cut myself in the sharp shards that are left?". Her face was beautiful. Perfect , White , sad ... just like Mira's. He sighed at the thought that she will never see him or know him .... that she will die and eventually he'll wonder on her grave.

He stood up and asked her without expecting an answer - "What is your name?"

SIlence. It burned him. He wanted at least a noise.Nothing there. He started to gently glide towards the open window. Snow was beeing blown inside. He never relised how cold it actually was.

As he was ready to leave she stood up and a soft voice rose from her chest - "What is yours?"

His world started to tumble. She could hear him.

"You can see me?"

"Ah little! more like mist though!"

His heart was filled with euphoria. After the lond years of silence and loneliness somebody answered.

"Nah who are you?" - the southern accent matched the one of Mira's perfectly. He was stunned. Now able to speak and be listened he was speachless.


End file.
